


it might not be that bad

by Katranga



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Humor, M/M, Miscommunication, Rivalry, because they're bad talking to each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-07 04:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14663757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katranga/pseuds/Katranga
Summary: Jealous (adj) /jeləs/Dictionary definition: feeling or showing envy of someone or their achievements and advantages.Keith's definition: inability to meet a guy’s eye, uncontrollable stammering, blushing; see also: crush.So why would Lance be jealous of Keith?--Keith is bad at emotions. He and Lance are both bad at saying what they mean. They work it out. Eventually.





	1. Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi be nice to me I'm sick. I also haven't been feeling anything I've been writing the past few weeks, original or fic, so I decided to come back to this bad boy I've had 90% finished for like 4 months.  
> It's now 95% percent done, so I'm posting the first part. I'm pretty sure it's gonna be 3 chapters, or maybe only 2. It would just be a one-shot, but I started off with these flashbacks, and at a certain point I didn't need them anymore but there was a lot more story to tell, so... we're just gonna call this part 1 and move on.  
> Title from Hey Jealousy by Gin Blossoms

It took Keith a ridiculously long time to realize Lance was jealous of him. 

Mostly because they’d met while Keith was living alone in a shack in the middle of the desert, so what exactly was Lance jealous of? And partly because Keith’s version of jealousy manifested much differently than Lance’s.

Lance demanded Keith’s attention by teasing and boasting that he was better than Keith at every possible feat. Piloting their lions? Yeah. Training simulations? Of course. And the endless challenges—race to the kitchen, to finish dinner, to wash the fucking dishes.

So Keith had no reason not to take their rivalry at face value, because he’d never experienced jealousy like  _ that _ .

\--

Keith moved around a lot, kicked between foster homes, so he met a lot of people that forgot about approximately five seconds after leaving. But there was this one senior that Keith spent most of his time at that school staring at. He had a Harley, of which Keith was definitely jealous. He understood that. Keith had wanted a motorcycle since the training wheels came off his first bike.

But the guy also wore this distressed leather jacket all the time, which was a bit much for Texas, but it was also really worked for him. And then, when he wasn’t wearing the jacket, he had tattoos—like, he had tattoos while he wore the jacket too, but they only existed to Keith when it was off. And he’d stare at them from across the cafeteria, mesmerized by the way they flexed over the guy’s warm brown skin.

But Keith had never wanted tattoos, so Keith wasn’t sure what that was about.

One day in the hall, some girl was tracing the tattoos on his forearm while Keith full-on stared at them from his locker.

Flirting, it registered to him after a lag. The girl winked and the guy flushed and they were standing real close together, and… yup, that was flirting. 

“Jealous?” said the guy at the locker next to his.

“Huh?”

It was how most of their chats went. Keith’s locker neighbour, always with a sweatband in his hair, would start talking to Keith out of nowhere. And it always took Keith by surprise, because he forgot about his existence the second he stopped talking.

“Jones gets all the chicks,” Sweatband went on, as if Keith had offered something to encourage the conversation. “It’s the bad boy shtick. All crap, by the way. You know he’s getting a full ride to his top choice college? What a poser.”

All Keith could think was,  _ Wow, he’s smart, too? _

And then Sweatband’s first comment rounded back to him. Jealous. Yeah, that was the feeling. That was why he couldn’t stop looking at motorcycle guy. Keith was jealous, that made sense.

\--

Keith did not read Lance as jealous when he busted into the crashed spaceship to save Shiro. Lance seemed agitated, which didn’t make any sense because Lance was the one interrupting a rescue, not the other way around.

Nevertheless, when Lance, Hunk, and Pidge announced they were there to help, Keith’s first reaction was relief. They could distract any lingering guards, help get Shiro to the hover bike. The chances of the rescue’s success went up.

Then Lance shot his mouth off about their rivalry, and any fleeting relief was swiftly replaced by irritation. Who did this guy this he was?

“You know, Lance and Keith, neck and neck!”

Keith spent an exorbitant amount of time studying him considering the time-sensitivity of the mission. Sharp chin, sweaty brown hair, an elastic face flipping through so many emotions with just a twitch of his eyebrow that Keith couldn’t hope to keep track.

“Oh. Cargo pilot?” he said, confused, because how would a fighter pilot and a cargo pilot be in competition?

And Lance’s face pulled into an expression Keith would’ve expected after Keith kicked his dog rather than acknowledging that, oh yeah, Keith did kind of remember him.

That was just the beginning of Keith gravely misunderstanding Lance.

\--

Keith had spoken to motorcycle guy—Jones—all of once.

Keith’s coke can rolled off his tray right after he’d paid for his shitty school lunch. It knocked into Jones’ boots.

Jones picked up the can and placed it back on Keith’s tray. “Sucks, now you gotta wait to open it.”

“Huh?” Keith said, blinking up at him. Sparkling brown eyes, a cool zigzag pattern cut into his shorn hair, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. Keith’s stomach twisted. He’d never seen him up close.

“It got all shook up?” he said. “So it’ll explode all over you.”

“Oh.” Wait, that made it sound like he’d never heard of the phenomenon before. He added, “Right. Yeah.”

He nodded. “Good luck with that.”

Jones walked away and Keith sat at the nearest empty table, immediately obsessing over the short conversation. It hadn’t been ground-breaking by any means, but his mouth still got dry thinking about how Jones was now aware of Keith’s existence.

So he went for his coke.

Which exploded in his face. 

Laughter sprouted from the tables surrounding him. Namely Jones’, where he sat with his cool friends. He looked over his shoulder at Keith, rolling his eyes like  _ Pfft. Freshman. _

Keith didn’t eat in the cafeteria after that. Avoided Jones for all he was worth, and was almost relieved when he got kicked to a new foster home in a different school district.

\--

Keith certainly did not challenge Jones to any stupid dares, like Lance did. Like their first test out with their lions, on Arus, when Coran told them to nosedive into the ground.

Keith was ready to take the training exercise seriously until Lance ribbed him—the first of many endless dares.

He still didn’t remember their so-called rivalry from the Garrison, but Lance was hell-bent on keeping it going. And Keith wasn’t going to let Lance beat him at anything.

As they drew closer and closer to the sandy hills, Keith grew surer and surer that Lance had made up their rivalry, because if Lance had been even a whiff this annoying at the Garrison, Keith definitely would’ve taken notice.

Although, Keith admitted as they crashed head-first into the sand, that wouldn’t necessarily have been a  _ good _ thing. Keith probably would’ve been kicked out even sooner with Lance nipping at his heels. 

Which didn’t bode well for their future together as Voltron, but that wasn’t Keith’s fault.

\--

Keith had no reason to guess that Lance was  _ jealous _ of him, not the way Keith understood it.

A few schools after Jones, Keith had grown to accept that he was a jealous person. Maybe he was more insecure that he thought, because that dry-mouthed, twisty-turny stomach feeling popped up a lot. Seeing a neighbour visiting from college with his new Mustang. Ordering coffee from the barista with an eyebrow piercing. The guy at the thrift store who told him the red jacket Keith was trying on  _ totally _ suited him. 

Other symptoms of jealousy included: inability to meet the guy’s eye, uncontrollable stammering, and blushing.

None of which matched up with Lance.

\--

Lance was useless. 

Except when he wasn’t. When he was vital to their success. Like when he almost killed himself shielding Coran from that blast on Arus. And then saved Keith’s ass when he woke up long enough to shoot Sendak.

Right after that, when everyone was busy with something else, Lance was still lying on the floor. So Keith went over to help him up. He laid a tentative arm around his back, and Lance didn’t shake him off. He took Keith’s outstretched hand, and leaned on Keith’s chest instead of standing. 

He was trembling, pain and exhaustion pouring out of him. 

Keith tightened his grip around his shoulders. 

Lance’s face melted a little, soft around the nicks and cuts. “We are a good team.”

Emotion bubbled in Keith’s throat—relief, he decided, that his teammate was okay. Too overcome to say anything, he returned the smile and squeezed Lance’s hand. 

The moment felt like… a whole lot of something. 

Did that mean their rivalry over? Could they just be friends, teammates, and work together in harmony to save the universe?

No. 

When Lance got out of the healing pod and Keith brought up their bonding moment, he acted like he had no idea what Keith was talking about. Un-fucking-believable. 

The pure, unmitigated  _ gall _ .

So,  _ whatever _ . They were rivals. Keith was on board, because Lance was an asshole.

\--

Not as big of an asshole as his one classmate, though. It was Keith’s third day at a new school, so people were still trying to be his friend. They hadn’t picked up that Keith would be purposely eating lunch alone, walking to classes alone, and doing every project alone, no matter what the teacher assigned.

Keith was at his locker and a guy, some redhead, was waiting for Keith to get his books because they had two classes in a row together. Keith was really hoping he’d take the loner hint soon.

Across the hall, two guys came out of an empty classroom, smiling and laughing, and the redhead next to Keith sneered. “Ugh, bet they were sucking face.”

Keith didn’t immediately pick up on his tone. So he just heard the words and, he wasn’t sure why, but he perked up. One of the guys was in his Biology class, and Keith was jealous of the way his safety goggles sat in his bed of curly hair. 

“You think so?” Keith said. 

And then the redheaded guy spat some homophobic garbage and Keith just. Used all the energy he would’ve spent punching his lights out to slam his locker shut.

He stalked off, skipping his next class.

Keith wasn’t surprised when the gay rumours started. He didn’t mind. They turned out to be a pretty good way to be left alone.

\--

But in the castle, Keith wasn’t sure if he wanted to be alone. Like, there were definitely times when all he wanted was an empty training room, just him and the drone, upping the difficulty setting until he was drenched in sweat and could barely lift his arms.

That didn’t mean  _ all _ the time though, but he didn’t know how to “hang out” with the rest of the team casually. He’d had no practice. He didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to walk into the lounge, when Lance and Hunk and Pidge were already there, talking and having fun, and not feel like an intruder. Because he had nothing to add to the conversation; he just didn’t want to sit alone in his room. 

He always felt so awkward when the three of them got going. They were friends. They had shared experiences, they had insides jokes, they knew exactly how far to tease without pissing each other off.

Keith was almost… jealous? Of their easy camaraderie. Was that it?

Regardless, it wasn’t all fun times. The night of the incident with Nyma and Rolo, on their way back to the Balmera, Hunk was bitter and not near done complaining. 

“You guys need to listen to me more,” Hunk said. He and Lance were on opposite ends of the couch, facing each other, while Pidge sat on the floor, fiddling with some contraption. Hunk gestured at Keith. “I mean, Pidge was distracted by that robot, and Nyma distracted Lance, but you, Keith? Why didn’t you notice something was up?”

Keith frowned from his position on the arm chair across from them. “Why is Lance excused just because he let a girl trick him? He should’ve known better than to believe she was into in him.”

By which he meant that Lance should be smart enough to know when someone was pulling one over on him, and that maybe he should think more with his head and less with his… heart.

That was not how Lance took it. 

Lance sat up, the lines of his body screaming with indignation. “I am an attractive guy, Keith. Why shouldn’t I think she wanted me?”

Hunk opened his mouth, possibly to prevent a fight, possibly to complain more about everybody letting him down, but Keith replied before he got the chance.

“If you’re going to blindly follow any girl that bats her lashes at you, you’re gonna be a massive liability to the team.”

Which was a clear clarification of his previous statement, and Keith was pleased with how it came out.

“ _ I’m _ a liability?” Lance repeated incredulously. 

Not that it was meant to placate Lance; Keith just wanted to make sure they were on the same page, argument-wise. Keith wasn’t arguing about Lance’s attractiveness. 

Lance pointed at him. “You’re the one who fights first and asks questions later.”

“Yeah, and when were you planning on “questioning” Nyma?” 

“Don’t air-quote me, in your stupid fingerless gloves!”

Keith glared back, fisting his hands against his legs self-consciously. 

Pidge gathered up her stuff with a sigh. “Well, this has been fun, but—”

Lance continued, “Maybe if you’d ever kissed a girl, you’d understand—” 

Keith scoffed.

Pidge paused; his response was enough to clue  _ her _ in.

“Um, Lance?” Hunk said, maybe about to say Lance was going too far. Because mocking someone’s inexperience was rude, right? But Keith wasn’t offended.

Just feeling more awkward by the second.

“What? He acts so above it all, like—” Lance waved a hand, moving to sit on the arm of the couch as if that would give him the moral high ground. “Like if Nyma had been hitting on you, you wouldn’t—”

“Before you embarrass yourself—” Keith cut in, heart pounding in his ears. 

“No,  _ I’m _ not embarrassed. You’re—”

“Gay,” Keith said flatly.

Pidge nodded, shot him a thumbs up, and then continued out of the room.

Lance’s brows rose as he jutted his chin forward off his long neck. The rest of him was still. “Pardon?”

Keith didn’t move a muscle. “I’m gay?”

Lance stayed still for one more moment. Then he nodded. “Okay, so that  _ would _ have been embarrassing.” He cleared his throat. “You’re saying if Rolo had been hitting on you, you wouldn’t have given him a spin in Red?”

The tension winding up in Keith’s shoulders slowly released. With a modicum more composure, Keith managed to say, “I wouldn’t have gone anywhere with a guy named  _ Rolo _ .”

“Oh, come on. He was hot.”

“Yeah, but you can’t trust someone just because they’re hot! That’s all I’m saying. Think next time.”

Lance crossed his arms with a pout. “I still think she liked me, even though she tied me to a tree.”

Keith swallowed down a few more acidic comments. Lance had barely blinked when Keith came out. He could afford to cut him some slack.

“Yeah, maybe.”

He shot him a rakish grin. “Because I’m an attractive guy?”

Keith stood up. “I’m going to bed.”

\--

He spent a bit of time trying to rationalize that even though these feelings about… So.  _ Many _ . Guys weren’t necessarily jealousy, it could just as easily be admiration. 

But no, Keith admired Shiro when they met at the Garrison, literally, with no other implications, because of Shiro’s accomplishments and his skill as a pilot.

Keith had to shake himself out of staring at shirtless guys training at the Garrison because he was  _ gay _ .

There was a difference. A stark, stomach-clenching difference between jealousy, admiration, and attraction.

And he was figuring it out on his own.

He kept his head down. Didn’t make friends, certainly didn’t do any of that flirting everyone seemed so into. Force of habit, not making ties. Even though the Garrison was his dream come true, and he promised himself he wouldn’t leave until he graduated.

Which didn’t work out, but that didn’t matter anymore.

And he ended up with something better than the Garrison. He got Voltron. He got space. He got the endlessness of the entire universe at his fingertips, and he got a family.

And a Lance.

\--

The weird thing about being thrown into life-threatening situations with people you’ve just met was that you trusted them with your life, and you’d risk yours to save them. But you didn’t really… know anything about them. 

Which was highlighted when Lance didn’t know Keith was gay, but thrown into stark relief the next day in the Balmera. 

Keith and him were teamed up together in the tunnels. 

Lance picked up a stray pebble and squinted at it. “Do you think this is alive?”

Keith shrugged. “It’s probably like dry skin, right?”

“Cool.” He pocketed it. “Marta’ll love that.”

“Sister?” Keith guessed as they continued down the tunnel, bayards drawn in case of trouble.

Lance grinned. “Yeah. I’m trying to pick up souvenirs for everybody.”

He talked about his family all the time. Keith knew it was big. He knew Lance missed them. He knew Lance was sure he’d see them again. 

“What about you?” Lance asked.

“Nope.” 

“Just gonna say your return should be gift enough?” he joked.

Keith stopped as they approached a corner. “There’s nobody to return to.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m an orphan.” Keith checked the corridor ahead of them. Empty. He jogged ahead, waving for Lance to follow. 

But Lance’s footsteps didn’t echo with his. 

Keith tossed a glance over his shoulder. Lance was right where he left him, working on covering up some expression Keith probably didn’t want to see.

“Lance, we’re moving,” Keith said impatiently.

“Yeah.” He hurried to catch up. They continued on, and Keith foolishly thought he might let it go, but after a few moments, Lance said, “I didn’t know.”

Keith shrugged off his… apology? Sympathy? Whatever. “I never mentioned it. Hard to talk about something that doesn’t exist.”

“So… gay and an orphan,” Lance said. “What else?”

“Well, a fun fact about me is that I’m in the middle of a mission right now, so—”

“You just like being mysterious don’t you?”

Shots whizzed past his shoulder. 

Keith threw up his shield. “I like not getting shot at!”

Lance had his gun aimed in a second, shooting out the drones at the end of the tunnel. “Finally something we have in common!”

They dove back into their task and ended up actually working really well together. Meshing instead of clashing for the first time since… Arus, maybe. 

Keith didn’t put too much stock in it. Lance pretended not to remember their bonding moment back then, either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so this had a lot of references to season 1, and then I never mention canon again. I don't know why, it just worked out like that. The pacing of this fic is so weird, this chapter feels more like a prologue than anything, but I don't feel like staring at it any longer so I'm just posting it.  
> The rest of the fic should be up later this week, maybe next. It depends how motivated I get by comments and kudos! Let me know how you're liking it so far.  
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://katranga.tumblr.com) if you want.


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, 2:30 am, the best time to post, as everyone knows. That's on me though, for spending three hours watching youtube videos tonight instead of starting editing before 11:30 pm. Whatever, it's done now, so I'm posting.  
> Thank you for all the feedback so far, I really appreciate it!!  
> Here is the second chapter! Decided to split this in 2 because it was originally 8k words and that seemed excessive.

They weren’t fighting _constantly_. Sometimes they worked as a team. Sometimes Lance wasn’t a dick, they weren’t rivals, they were just teammates working together to save the universe. Sometimes they were friends saving each other from certain death. Sometimes Lance seemed pissed that Keith kept flinging himself headfirst into danger—not because Lance thought Keith was trying to show him up, but because Keith could get hurt and he didn’t want that.

But there was still that thread of tension, an impenetrable wall between them that Keith couldn’t begin to think about how to de-construct.

Not that Keith cared that Lance got along with everybody except Keith. He was just concerned about how it affected the team.

He didn’t care _so much_ that he complained to Shiro about him on a weekly basis. “Why doesn’t he like me?”

Shiro tossed him a spare glance from the screen he was looking at on the bridge. “Lance likes you.”

“Not like Hunk and Pidge,” Keith said, hiking his foot up on the ship’s controls. Which maybe wasn’t a fair comparison, because those three were like siblings. He’d never get close to that. “Not like Coran or Allura. Or you. He worships you.”

Shiro chuckled, which made Keith scrunch in on himself harder, arms crossed, chin tucked into his chest.

“It’s your rivalry thing,” Shiro said.

“The rivalry thing’s stupid,” Keith grumbled.

“So tell him you don’t wanna be rivals anymore.”

“Ha!” sprouted from his lips in a burst of derision.

“Seriously. If you have a problem with him, you should confront it head-on like responsible adults—”

Keith let out a long, drawn-out groan.

Keith, responsible? Lance, an adult?

Yeah right.

It wasn’t like he was any stranger to fully throwing himself at his problems. But that was on missions amid fights. In inter-personal relationships??? No.

Despite his inexperience, he was pretty sure that begging Lance to be friends was not the right move.

Shiro took pity on Keith and squeezed his shoulder. “Cheer up. You two aren’t nearly as antagonistic as you used to be. Haven’t you been getting closer between all your bickering?”

Keith did not like the word “bicker” to describe his and Lance’s interactions. It sounded so immature. So unlike Keith. But Lance dragged him in, goaded him into a fight, even when Keith tried to be mature and not take the bait. But Lance fought so hard for Keith’s attention. And he knew exactly which buttons to push to get Keith invested.

Sometimes he didn’t mind. They were still talking. And sure, Lance was annoying, but their conversations had a snarky rhythm, a predictable back and forth. If they lost that, what would they say to each other?

He didn’t want to lose…

He didn’t want to make it weird.

Keith shook his head. “Never mind.”

“Never mind?” Shiro repeated incredulously. “You just spent half an hour listing every minor grievance you’ve had with Lance in the past week—”

He stood up. “I did not.” He pointed at him. “And _don’t_ tell him that.”

“Keith,” Shiro said, “I say this in the gentlest way possible, but I have no interest in reliving this conversation. So your secret is safe with me.”

“There’s no secret,” he argued. “I just don’t want Lance knowing I’m thinking about him.”

Shiro inclined his head, brows rising pointedly to his hairline.

Keith glared at him as he walked out of the room.

\--

The team was in a meeting planning their upcoming mission, saving a new planet from Galra control.

Lance was complaining, loudly, with no signs of stopping, about Keith getting assigned the role he wanted.

Keith leaned against the wall, arms folded, calmly explaining why he would do a better job than Lance.

Somehow that wasn’t helping.

Coran waved them to a quiet. “As much as we all enjoy your witty banter, I ask that you put your jealousy aside and focus on the mission.”

Keith froze, except for his eyes going as round as a deer’s in headlights.

His heartbeat pulsed in his ears so loud that he barely heard Lance’s indignant squawk. “Jealous? As _if_!”

Keith released a deep breath through his nose, as inconspicuously as possible.

Coran had been talking to Lance.

And Keith had never told anybody about his dumb attraction/jealousy mix-up, so Coran wasn’t saying that Lance was jealous of Keith in the same way he’d been “““jealous””” of so many guys in high school. Just jealous in the normal, correct definition of the word.

Lance kept arguing that he wasn’t jealous, but he _was;_ Keith had something he wanted and Lance resented him for it. That was the dictionary definition of jealousy, not any other feeling Keith got confused with when he was desperately sticking to the closet.

Lance’s mouth curled into a scowl when his eyes landed on Keith, who was in the process of melting with relief.

“Yeah, gloat it up, glory boy,” he grumbled before stomping out of the room.

Shiro shot Keith a Disappointed Look, which he shrugged widely at. He hadn’t said a thing!

“It’s important we work as a team for this mission,” Allura said pointedly.

“We will,” Shiro said, still looking at Keith. “We’ve got two vargas until we head out. Meet back here then.”

They went their separate ways to prepare before the mission, until it was Keith alone on the bridge with his thoughts. Not an ideal combo.

His stomach swarmed thinking about the look on Lance’s face before he left the room. It was mostly irritation taking hold of his stomach, but also something softer, like a bruise, that made him want to apologize even though he hadn’t done anything.

There were two hours left  before the mission, which meant  two hours for Lance to stew and resent Keith. Or Keith could follow Shiro’s stupid advice and talk to him.

He argued with himself for a few minutes before leaving the bridge to look for Lance.

The ship was huge, but if Lance was moping, he’d only be in one place. And if he wasn’t there, then he wasn’t moping, and Keith didn’t have to talk to him.

Keith got to the lion hangar, and there Lance was, wiping space dirt off Blue’s leg.

Shit.

“Hey,” Keith said. And stopped. Because that’s all he had planned.

Lance pointed at Red without looking at Keith. “Your lion’s over there?”

“Thanks, yeah.”

Keith cleared his throat.

Should he apologize? For _what_? A variety of curt responses flicked through his mind, but he took the extra second to roll them around on his tongue before spitting one out, and decided all of them would make him sound like a dick.

Did that make Keith a dick? That all of his go-to responses were something a dick would say?

Thankfully, Lance took it upon himself to continue the conversation. “I’m not jealous.”

Keith nodded. “Okay, great. Glad we cleared that up.”

“Yup!” Lance was now furiously scrubbing an already gleaming section of Blue’s front leg.

Keith bit back a sigh. “Why do you always get mad at _me_?”

“What?”

“Like, I’m paired up with Pidge on this  because we need stealth, but you’re not fighting with _her_. You don’t get all snippy with Hunk when he gets assigned something heavy duty. We’re just playing to our strengths, Lance.”

Lance turned to face him. For a second it looked like he was going to throw the rag down, tantrum-style, but he aborted at the last moment and clenched it in his fist. “So when are we playing to _my_ strengths?”

“We get assigned what we’re best at—”

Lance shook his head, climbing into Blue’s mouth. “Forget it. I’ve gotta clean in here. I got super sweaty during  training yesterday.”

Blue’s mouth closed up after him.

That weird bruised feeling in Keith’s stomach pulsed even harder.

“Lance,” he called. “Lance, come on.”

No answer.

“ _Lance_ ,” he groaned.

Well, he tried. He could rub this in Shiro’s face the next time he told him to act like an adult and talk it out. Lance didn’t want to be an adult. And it was fine. Lance would get over it, he always got over it.

Keith had nothing to feel bad about.

Keith addressed Blue. “Let me in.”

She stood still and silent as a statue.

“Please.”

After a taut moment of silence her jaw dropped, allowing Keith to climb into the cockpit.

Lance was gaping at the ceiling in outrage. “Et tu, Brute?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “We’re on the same team. It’s not like I’m gonna stab you twenty three times.”

“No, you’ll probably stab me twenty _four_.”

Keith stared at him flatly.

Lance huffed in surrender. “Fine.” He jerked a finger at Keith. “But you _do_ like stabbing.”

“And you like shooting,” Keith said, “your mouth off. So I guess we’re even.”

Lance snorted. “Sick burn there, samurai.”

Keith smiled softly to himself as he leaned against the hull. Lance ran his eyes over him, sizing him up.

He tried to look non-threatening, which wasn’t really one of his settings. He did his best; he uncrossed his arms.

“So what do you want?” Lance asked finally.

Great question. Did Keith have an answer? He wanted Lance to not be mad at him, but explaining why Lance shouldn’t be mad had not helped so far.

Keith lifted a shoulder. “To get along?”

“Do we not get along?”

He’d love to say yes. He’d love to get along with Lance more often than fight with him. But he was fighting with Lance this very moment, so he couldn’t say that was reality.

“ _Do_ we?” Keith asked incredulously.

Lance sighed, grounding one foot on the floor and swivelling in his pilot seat. “You really wanna get into this right now?”

“No, but I can’t wait for you to get over yourself—”

He stopped swivelling. “You broke into my lion to tell me to get over myself?” He lifted his brows. “How are you confused that, out of everybody, _you’re_ the one I get mad at?”

Keith’s earlier thoughts of whether or not he was a dick resurfaced.

“I did not break in—” He cut himself off.  He started to cross his arms again but stopped, and let them hang awkwardly at his sides before shoving his hand in his pockets. “That’s not what I meant.”

Lance swept a hand through the air, welcoming him to elaborate.

He fisted his hands, biting the bullet. “You don’t have to be jealous of me.”

“I’m not.”

“You said that already, and then you got pissed when I agreed, so…” Keith brought his shoulders up to his ears. “Like, what do you want from me, Lance? I’m trying here.”

Lance sucked his teeth. His gaze strayed to a scuff mark on the wall rather than Keith.

“It’s stupid,” he said quietly. “I know it’s stupid. You’re always gonna be a better pilot than me, a better fighter than me—”

“Because I train more,” he said. “But that’s not why I got this assignment.”

“Right, your lion just happens to be the fastest, yeah.” He wiped a tired hand over his face. “Don’t worry about it, okay? You apologized, it’s fine—well you didn’t apologize, but you made an effort, so—”

“What the hell should I be apologizing for?”

“Being a dick?” he said like it was obvious.

“I didn’t _do_ anything!”

He crossed his arms, a pout drawing out of him. “You broke into my lion.”

Keith tilted his head back, praying for strength. “It’s like talking to a brick wall. Why do I even bother?”

He dug his chin into his collarbone as his pout became even more pronounced. “Told you you’re a dick.”

This was getting nowhere, and it wasn’t _going_ to get anywhere, because they had an absolutely terrible understanding of each other.

Keith sighed. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t gloating or whatever you think was happening back there.”

He didn’t back down. “Then why’d you look all smug?”

How was Keith supposed to explain he’d just been relieved that Coran hadn’t been accusing Keith of liking Lance? He scrambled for an explanation that didn’t involve exposing his fundamental inability to understand emotions.

Nothing came to mind.

But he had to clear this up, right? Shiro wanted him to be an adult. _Keith_ wanted this stupid rivalry resolved.

He ducked his head, meeting Lance’s eyes from under his bangs. “Can I tell you something dumb?”

Lance mouth dropped open for a second before he nodded. “Go right ahead.”

He wiped his sweaty palms against his jeans.

“When I was in high school, before I realized I was gay,” he almost tripped over the word, still unused to forming it so casually. He half-lost his nerve, looking at Blue’s controls instead of at Lance. “I had myself convinced that any attraction to a guy was just jealousy.”

Lance tilted his head, curious.

“I’d—I’d get these huge crushes on random guys,” Keith continued, “and I’d be like, ‘Gee, I sure am jealous of how cute his smile is.’” He shook his head, trying to laugh at himself while avoiding Lance’s eye. “Just ridiculous stuff like that. So when Coran said that on the bridge, for half a horrifying second I thought he meant you, like, liked me or something.”

He was still laughing a little, hoping Lance would join in so his confession would be less deathly awkward.

And Lance did chuckle under his breath.

But he also said, “Would that be so bad?”

And Keith short-circuited.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

Like, Keith was pretty sure Lance liked guys as well as girls. He’d made passing mentions of how hot guys were a few too many times to be coincidence.

(Seventeen, it had been seventeen times, not including bragging about how hot he himself was.)

(And five of those were supposed to be jabs at Keith, but calling him “pretty boy” or complaining about Keith not needing to worry about facial cleansers because his skin was already perfect didn’t count as insults.)

The slap of Lance hitting his knee cracked like thunder in the sudden silence. He laughed loudly, elastic face pulled wide. “Ha, you should see your face!”

Joke, it was a joke.

 _Laugh_ , Keith ordered himself. A choked chuckle left him. It was all he could squeeze out past the tightness in his chest. He refused to examine exactly which emotion was doing that.

Lance popped to his feet. “Well, I think that clears things up. Thanks for sharing. Let’s go… pack? Look at maps? I dunno, whatever. C’mon.”

He skipped down his lion’s steps, and Keith could only follow him, even though there were a dozen more thoughts swirling in his head desperate to get out.

\--

A few hours later, during the mission Keith and Lance had been fighting about, Keith was still obsessing over Lance’s “joke”. He could barely concentrate on the fighting, so it was probably more responsible to get an answer about it now, right? Than to risk distraction and ruining the mission?

Right.

Keith switched to a private line in his lion and said, “Hey, Pidge?”

“Yeah?”

“Lance is bi, right?”

“By what?”

“Sexual.”

“Huh?”

“Bisexual.”

“Whuh—is this about the mission we’re in the middle of?” Pidge asking, dodging away from an enemy ship in Green.

His cheeks heated. “Uh, no—”

“What was your question?”

“Lance is bisexual, right?” he spat out. All at once. He still wanted an answer.

She paused as she shot at something. “Uh, yeah. Is this new information for you?”

“Yeah, no, I mean,” Keith stuttered. “I wasn’t sure.”

“How? He hits on you like every day.”

“He does _not_!” His voice cracked. Pidge snorted. “Whatever, we’re in the middle of a mission.”

“Sorry, is talking about Lance too distracting?”

“Fuck off, Pidge.”

Her laughter echoed through the comms.

\--

There was a celebration after they freed the planet from Galra control. A big party in an outdoor courtyard. Stars sparkled in the sky like some kid got a little too enthusiastic with glitter, and two moons lit the party goers below.

The setting was beautiful, but Keith’s gaze kept straying to Lance a few feet away.

He’d caught Keith in a victory hug after they’d landed their lions. He did that sometimes. Their armour made the two of them clack against each other more than anything, not like the dozens of soft hugs he’d had from Hunk, but it staggered Keith every time. He’d get swept up in the sudden closeness; Lance’s fresh sweat, his heavy breathing in his ear—and sometimes Keith would touch Lance’s hair, just for a second, before Lance pulled away to deliver his next hug, leaving Keith totally off kilter.

Now, Lance was dancing to a song with a heavy bass. Slow and deep, like everybody listening was in on a secret. His moves were fluid, like he was dancing through water. Arms curving upwards in some patented dance move, hips swaying to the beat in a mesmerizing rhythm.

Keith’s mouth went dry, and a quiet longing in his head voiced, _man, I wish I could move like him._

But that was reflexive, and a poor cover-up for what was really happening.

Lance caught him looking.

Fuck. Fuck and shit.

“You jealous of my moves?” Lance was smirking, waving his arms in Keith’s direction.

“Fuck off,” he said as his cheeks burned with a blush. “I told you that in confidence.”

“And I’m teasing you about it _in confidence._ ”

Keith jerked his hands at the hundreds of aliens surrounding them.

“No one’s listening,” Lance assured him. He closed the distance between them, smile teasing but welcoming. "Dance with me."

His heart jumped to his throat. But Lance asked people to dance all the time. It didn’t mean anything. He was just bored and Keith was _there_.

“Come on,” he continued, “I'm an excellent teacher.”

“You assuming I can't dance?” Keith managed to respond.

Lance snorted, fingers ghosting along the underside of Keith’s forearms, drawing him in like a siren call. Keith swallowed, throat as dry as sand as Lance’s smile grew. Which was not charming at all.

“Show me what you got, Mullet.”

Which reminded Keith that he couldn't, in fact, dance, and he sure wasn't embarrassing himself in front of Lance by trying to bluff it.

Keith shook his hair into his eyes, looking around the courtyard for a distraction. "You want a drink?"

He pursed his lips, considering. “Okay, but we deserve a little celebratory boogie. You’re dancing with me when you get back.”

Keith turned away before Lance could see him smile.

He cut through the crowd to the punch table, willing down the swirling _something_ in his gut.

Would it be so bad? If Lance liked him?

Yes, his immediate answer was yes. It would be terrible if Lance liked him.

And if he liked Lance??? Absolute disaster.

So Keith didn't. He didn't like Lance.

But would hanging out with him during this overcrowded, over-noisy celebration be so bad? No. They could side-eye bad dancers together, keep each other company. Lance could be a buffer between chatty party guests and Keith.

And if this bubbling punch was at all alcoholic, Keith might end up dancing after all.

He turned around, cups in hand, looking forward to spending the rest of the night in Lance’s company.

And Lance had already found himself a new dance partner.

Lance was shimmying with some metallic-skinned alien, who glowed in the moonlight, ethereal and enchanting. Lance threw his head back and laughed, ungainly and free, and the swirling feeling in Keith's stomach twisted to something rusted and sour.

It was stupid, like everything between him and Lance. The rivalry was stupid, their fights were stupid, disappointment that Lance had found a better distraction faster than Keith could blink was stupid.

He wasn't going to admit to any other stupid feelings.

Hunk wandered over after a while—too long, probably, of Keith watching from across the courtyard as Lance and his dance partner moved in sync, chatting and smiling.

Keith shoved the second cup of punch at Hunk, and decided to stick by him for the rest of the party. It was basically the same thing as hanging out with Lance. Spending time with Hunk was perfectly enjoyable—more enjoyable even, than being with Lance, because Lance was so _frustrating_ , with his hips and his laugh and his long fingers on the shoulder of that silver alien—

Keith drank enough punch to get wasted, trying to get rid of the bitter taste growing in his mouth.

But the punch wasn't alcoholic.

“Uh, dude?” Hunk said tentatively. “I thought you and Lance figured your stuff out?”

“Huh?” Keith ripped his gaze away from the boy in question. “We did. We totally did.”

“Cool…” Hunk let the word hang in the air. “So is there a reason you look like you’re testing if you’ve got laser vision on him?”

“I’m _not_ ,” he said. “I’m not even looking at him.”

“But you have been, though,” he said. “For the last, like, hour. People keep trying to talk to us and you just grunt at them.”

“And apparently you’ve been staring at me this whole time, so I guess we’re even.”

He had no reason to be that snippy with Hunk, but before he could conceive of the concept of apologizing, Hunk responded.

He chewed slowly on a canape, and then said, “If you wanna dance with him—”

“I’m not—I don’t!” Keith squawked. “Why would I want that?”

Why would he want Lance’s hands on him? Why would he want Lance’s body close? Why would he wanna make Lance laugh with his terrible dance moves?

Did Hunk _know_? Had Pidge told him about Keith asking about Lance? Was Keith’s world about to come tumbling down around him when the whole team realized his thoughts about Lance?

Hunk lifted his hands in surrender. “Just a suggestion.”

Keith took a long gulp of the fizzy drink to quench his dry throat. “Well—”

Then he burped. And burped again.

And the rest of the night devolved into him trying to contain the gas desperately trying to escape his mouth, and bury the thoughts bursting in his brain.

\--

Later on, when they were returning to the castle for the night, Lance caught up with him.

“Keith, my man, where'd you disappear to?” he asked, face covered in a light sheen of sweat, glimmering as easily as the alien he’d replaced Keith with.

“Didn't want to _interruuupt_ ,” Keith finished with a belch.

“Dude, hardcore.” Lance raised his hand for a high five.

With great reluctance, Keith returned it, only because Lance had never once let someone turn down a high five.

Lance squeezed his fingers, tactile to a fault, before letting go. “Don’t think you got away with it, though. I’m gonna get that dance one day.”

Keith burped again. Lance laughed.

Would it really be so bad? If Lance liked him?

Lance winked.

Oh. Oh, it would be the end of the fucking world.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've decided it's gonna be 4 parts! Kinda set up like past/present/future, with the first chap and last chap having flashbacks because I am making stuff up as I go along. Next chapter is gonna be another 'present' chapter, and I think that's gonna be up Tuesday.  
> Lemme know what you thought!


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you for your feedback!  
> Here's part 3, heads up for mild violence and a near-death situation.

Another day, another strategy session. It wasn’t going great. They needed information hidden away on a Galra-loyal planet. Lance had suggested going undercover to get into the main city three times, and every time Shiro had shot him down and begged the team for better ideas.

But they’d been at this for an hour and there just… weren’t any.

Keith leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "I hate to say it, but the only thing that might work is Lance's stupid plan."

"It's not stupid!"

Shiro massaged his temples. "Keith, I think you're right.”

Lance glared at Keith as his plan’s edges were smoothed out through the rest of the meeting. So Keith wasn't at all surprised when Lance caught him in the hall after, hackles raised, feathers ruffled, ready for a fight.

Keith bit back a pained sigh. He thought they’d been getting along lately, he really did. Their teasing was more light-hearted, Lance was smiling and not just smirking. He was all ‘Keith, check this out!’ and ‘Race you!’ instead of harping on his mullet and his gloves and his brooding.

It seemed like Keith sharing a bit of himself with Lance in Blue had actually helped matters.

But things couldn’t _stay_ good. Not with Lance.

Lance opened with, "What's the big idea, huh?"

To which Keith blinked. "Saving the universe?"

"You know what I mean."

"As always, I do not—”

He poked him in the chest. "What're you stealing my ideas for?"

Keith smacked his hand away. "I didn't _steal_ your idea. I said we should do your inane plan.”

"And then Shiro said ‘I agree, Keith’,” Lance dropped his voice to do a shitty Shiro impression. “Like he hadn't even _heard_ it until you said it."

There was an undercurrent of that damn jealousy again, but Keith didn't understand what _for_.

"Does it matter whose idea it is as long as we're doing it?"

Lance huffed. "Why do you always have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Be  mature in the most annoying way possible."

Keith didn't have an answer to that.

"And furthermore," Lance continued, like wringing Keith out was his PhD thesis, "you never have any plans! You don’t do strategy. You run into everything half-cocked and hope your luck and your gut will save you. _I'm_ the plan man!" Lance poked Keith’s chest again. "You're knife boy."

"Excuse me?" His incredulous response may have come out as a squeak.

"You heard me." Lance crossed his arms indignantly

“What do you want me to do?” Keith asked, honestly asking so he could end this conversation. “Remind Shiro this was your plan? Do you want a medal? You wanna keep a tally of every time we take your advice?”

Lance’s brows lowered, his lips tugged into a pout. Keith caught a flash of… hurt? Before that elastic face morphed into clear irritation. “You know know damn well it’s the principal of the thing, Keith.”

“So what. Do you want. Me to do?” he asked slowly, so the words might cut through Lance’s thick skull. Lance did not need to come at Keith like this, ready to tear his head off from the start. They could work together. Keith sighed. “Lemme help.”

Somehow he didn’t appreciate that. “I don’t need your help.”

“Why, because you’re making a problem that doesn’t exist?” Keith snapped.

Lance raised his hand, one finger lifted in a point.

“If you poke me one more time—”

He curled his hand into a fist before he dropped it to his side. He stared at him one long moment before scowling.  “You know what? Forget it.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!” Lance tossed his hands in the air as he took off down the hall.

“Fine!” Keith retorted at his back.

Lance flipped him off over his shoulder.

 _Ass_ hole.

\--

"Told you it was a dumb idea!" Keith's shout was nearly drowned out by the explosions rocking the tunnel they were sprinting down.

"Whose dumb idea was it to _do_ my dumb idea?" Lance shouted back, wrenching Keith out of the way of falling debris.

Keith chucked off his feathered hat to see better. “Yours!”

Lance’s disguises got them all the way into the tunnels under the main city where they got the information they needed, and then all hell broke loose. If they didn’t get out soon, the ceiling would cave in.

A laser shot past Lance’s ear.

Right, and also drones were chasing them.

Keith dragged Lance around the corner. Lance ripped off his oversized sunglasses, along with his flaming pink boa. There was a reason the team didn’t want to go undercover on this planet, okay? They couldn’t wear their armour. And the outfits were stupid. The plan was stupid. The fact that only Keith and Lance got stuck in the tunnels was stupid.

“I’m stupid, I get it, would you shut up?” Lance snapped.

Keith had not meant to stay any of that out loud.

Before he could retort—probably to tell _Lance_ to shut up—pain exploded in Keith’s side.

Lance’s grip on his arm became the only reason he didn’t immediately collapse.

“ _Shit_ ,” Keith gasped.

“Keith, come _on_.” Lance yanked him forward when Keith tripped.

Keith blacked out for a second.

When he forced his eyes back open, he was melded to Lance’s chest.

Lance was pressed against the wall, jaw clenched, intently shooting the drone who’d shot Keith.

Keith chanced a glance at his ribs. His sequined vest was half gone, blasted off by a laser that left a deep, bleeding hole in his flesh.

Oh, _no_.

Lance’s fingers brushed Keith’s jaw. He was staring down at him, face scarily soft and uncertain. “Keith?”

With immense effort, Keith pushed himself off Lance and took a burning step forward on his own. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“No I’m not.”

Lance shoved his hand, shiny with blood and sequins, into Keith’s face.

“That could be anybody’s blood,” Keith said.

And then promptly slumped into the wall.

“Keith!” Lance shouted, reedy with… worry, frustration, desperation?

Keith’s nails scraped rough stone as he tried to keep himself upright.

Lance was there in in a second, sliding an arm under his. “C’mon, Keithy boy. Stay with me.”

Keith’s eyes drooped. He definitely did not whimper. And if he did, it was because of the excruciating pain and did not have anything to do with Lance’s hot breath at his ear.

The walls around them rumbled, reminding them of the debilitating time crunch.

And Keith could barely walk. He tried to tug himself out of Lance’s grip.

“ _Keith_ ,” Lance said, yanking him closer.

Keith gritted his teeth as his wound was aggravated. “Go. I’ll catch up.”

“How many times have I told you you’re not funny?” Lance grunted. He dragged Keith along with no further argument, because Keith couldn’t walk and talk at the moment.

But he could think. Think about how warm Lance was. How strong he was. How stubborn he was for not leaving Keith before they were both buried in rubble.

Not that Keith would’ve gone anywhere without Lance, either.

They came to a fork in the path, and Lance immediately headed left, toward the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Almost done, hang in there,” Lance encouraged, gaze straight ahead.

Keith caught movement to his right. A drone rushing down the opposite path.

Keith bit down on a pained cry as he threw his bayard up to block the drone’s sword about to come down on Lance’s neck.

“Keith!”

He slid out of Lance’s grasp to stab the drone two-handed through the torso. It hit the ground.

Keith followed a split second later, slipping in his own blood. His mind swam. All he could concentrate on was the white-hot pain in his side that zipped up and down his body every time he moved. That and Lance.

“Keith!” Lance ripped off the decorative apron off his waist and pressed it to Keith’s wound. “Keith, buddy, stay with me.”

“Just go,” Keith coughed. “You can make it.”

“Bet you can beat me though.” Sweat beaded on his chin and slid off to mix with Keith’s blood welling up under hands. “C’mon, you’re not gonna let me win, are you? Let’s get you up.”

Keith spluttered a laugh.

The ceiling fractured in a zigzag pattern over their heads, raining dust down on them.

“Go,” he croaked.

“Get up!” Lance’s cries were fading in his ears.

Lance wasn’t going to leave him, even it would get him killed. He’d rather die than leave Keith. That’s what that meant, right? That’s what it meant to Keith.

And he finally decided something.

Keith used the last of his strength to cling to Lance’s arm. “It wouldn’t be.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Lance’s gaze was frantic, popping from Keith to their crumbling surroundings and back, desperate for a solution. But there was nothing. Just him and Keith. “Don’t—don’t leave me here alone. That’s not very good teamwork, is it?” Tears sparkled at his eyes. “Come on, dude.”

Keith’s heart ached, like a bruise you can’t help but touch. “It wouldn’t be so bad.”

“What? _Keith_ —”

And then everything went black.

\--

And then he woke up, stumbling out of a cryo pod on the castle ship.

The rest of the team was waiting, as was traditional when there was a near-fatality. Every time Keith came out, he brushed them off, rolled his eyes—the cryo pod always healed him up just fine—but when it was any other teammate, he was waiting just as tensely waiting for a friend to wake up.

Hunk was the first to hug him, then Shiro, then Lance, who almost trembled from how tight he squeezed.

Lance smelled like sweat, and it was all Keith could smell because Lance was pressed so tightly to him. It should’ve been gross, but instead it grounded him. He was alive, and in Lance’s arms, and held so fucking close. No armour, just their thin clothing, so Keith could feel Lance’s heart thumping against his.

“Hey, I’m fine,” Keith said quietly.

Lance nodded into his hair. “Just let me—just let me make sure.”

Keith tucked his face into Lance’s neck and breathed him in, trying not to cling any tighter than Lance was.

Because Lance had just almost watched him die, that’s all. That’s all this was in reaction to. The mildly traumatic experience of almost losing a teammate. Not even his favourite teammate, just _a_ teammate.

This didn’t mean anything, Keith thought as Lance fisted the back of his shirt.

\--

After Keith had a shower, Shiro stopped by his room.

“Good to see you up and about,” he said. “How’re you doing?”

Keith shrugged. "The cryo pod did its job."

"You sure?” Shiro sat next to him on his bed. “You look a little… frazzled. Kinda nauseous."

“Thanks,” Keith said dryly.

Shiro ruffled his hair. “Okay fine, you look great. But Lance didn’t.”

“Who?” Keith said for no explicable reason.

Shiro lifted an incredulous brow. "That guy you talk about all the time? He was hanging around your cryo pod for hours? Maybe you know him."

"Shut up," he scoffed, pretending he wasn't dying to know why Lance had been waiting outside his cryo pod.

"Alright. I won't say another word." And he walked out.

Damnit.

"Shiro, you're killing me," Keith whined.

He trailed after him, groaning like he was dying in hopes that Shiro would take pity on him and spill without Keith having to ask.

But Shiro kept walking.

“Shiro,” Keith said doggedly. “Shiro. _Takashi_.”

Shiro stopped and shrugged. “He was worried about you. We all were, but… when we found you guys, he was dragging you along trying to get you out. You were both covered in blood. And he barely left med bay while you were healing.”

“Right,” Keith said, subdued, suddenly feeling guilty for his glib attitude. He’d been in Lance’s position before. In comparison, it was almost easier to be the one dying. You didn’t have to _do_ anything.

“At least you two have made up, right?” Shiro said, trying to lift the mood.

“Huh?”

“You were fighting again before the mission, but you’ve cleared that up, right?”

It took Keith a second to remember what they’d been fighting about. Shiro, sort of. “Uh, I guess. I dunno. I only woke up like an hour ago; we haven’t talked.”

“What were you two fighting about anyway?”

Keith opened his mouth to say it didn’t matter, but what came out was, “Whose plan was it to go in disguise like that?”

He frowned. “It was the best option we had, it wasn’t anybody’s fault—”

“No, I know, I’m not blaming anyone. I mean, do _you_ remember whose idea it was?”

“It was a group decision—”

“Who said it first?” Keith asked.

Shiro paused, not following Keith’s train of thought, but trying to answer his question anyway.

He was taking too long.

“Lance’s,” Keith said. “It was Lance’s idea, and he’d said it three times before I admitted it was our only shot, and that’s when you agreed.”

“Okay?” Shiro said. “I just wanted to make sure we’d exhausted all our options—”

“Yeah, well, whatever,” Keith said with a shrug. “That’s what me and Lance were fighting about.”

“That we used his plan?”

“That you ignored him until I said it.”

“Oh.” He finally seemed to understand.

“Yeah,” Keith said. And that could’ve been the end of it. But he wanted Shir to really _get it_. “He—rightfully so—he called himself the Plan Man. He’s a really good strategist, he doesn’t panic when shit hits the fan, and I know he’s a goofball, but he can be serious when he needs to be, and I guess he feels like you never give him credit for that.”

Shiro nodded slowly, like Keith had said something revelatory. “I didn’t realize he felt that way. I’ll try to modify my behaviour.”

“Alright, just—don’t make a big deal about it.”

“Okay.” He took another second to look Keith over. “I guess you two are finally friends, then? Since you can compliment him without pretending it’s somehow a complaint?”

He flushed red. “That wasn’t complimenting. I was just—stating facts.”

Shiro tilted his head, not believing him for a second.

Keith pointed a finger in his face. “Don’t tell him I said any of that.”

He lowered Keith’s hand, unnecessarily amused. “As always, Keith, my lips are sealed.”

\--

Keith was in Red, scrolling through his holo tablet. He liked to hang out with her after every near-disaster, to reassure her that he was okay. She’d been freaked out that she couldn’t do anything in the tunnel without causing a worse collapse, but she couldn’t always save him. Sometimes it just had to be the team.

A hollow bang sounded on her leg. “Can I come in?” Lance’s voice echoed into the cabin.

“No,” Keith muttered to himself. Private chats with Lance never went well.

Instead of Red listening to him like a loyal space cat, she opened her mouth to let Lance stroll in like he owned the place.

 _Et tu, Brute?_ Keith thought at her, echoing Lance’s sentiments from the last time they’d talked in one of their lions. He could only hope that this conversation wouldn’t leave him with any more haunting questions from Lance.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?”

Keith looked at him from beneath his brow. “About what?”

Lance draped himself over the console in front of Keith, leaning in. “What do you think?”

Keith shrugged, dropping his gaze back to his tablet instead of Lance’s big blue eyes.

“Dude, back in the tunnel,” Lance started, as if he could be talking about anything else. “You said it wouldn’t be so bad. What… what did you mean?”

He wiped his sweaty palms against his thighs. “I don’t—did I say that? I don’t remember. Blood loss, you know.”

Lance pushed away from the console. “Playing dumb doesn’t suit you. Neither does almost dying, by the way.”

Keith could still feel Lance gripping his shoulders, like he could rip him out of death’s grasp himself. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t apologize, just—did you mean it wouldn't be so bad if you died?”

“Uh…” Keith hadn’t considered that was how Lance would take it. But that was infinitely less embarrassing than what really happened—that when he thought he was dying, his last action was letting Lance know he liked him.

Well, he wasn't dying anymore, and Lance didn't need to know what he’d been thinking.

Lance wasn’t patient enough to wait for a response. He started pacing in the small space. “Because it would _too_ be so bad. Like what the hell? How—why—we need you, man.”

“Sorry,” Keith repeated. “I know—I know you guys would’ve had to find another red paladin and everything, but at least…”

At least it wouldn’t have been Lance. Or any of the others.

He’d thought about it before. Keith was the only one with nobody waiting for him back on Earth. He was the only one with nothing to go back to but an empty shack. If anybody had to die to save someone, it was better him than the rest of the team.

But Lance's crestfallen expression made him rethink voicing that.

“Dude, no,” Lance said, much softer. “It would be so bad because we’d lose you as a person. As a friend.”

Uh oh. Lance was really buying that Keith had been talking about dying. So he wasn't connecting what Keith had said to his own comment weeks ago.

So Lance wasn't thinking about it, obsessing over Keith's response. Wanting to dance with him was nothing. Constantly begging for Keith’s attention was nothing.

None of it had meant anything.

_Would that be so bad?_

That was just Lance's normal teasing, something about his own insecurities about people liking him. Not about Keith.

A flush crawled up his neck.

This was bad, this was so, so bad.

“You can’t keep doing this.” Lance crouched in front of Keith in the pilot seat. “Launching yourself into harm’s way like it’s the end goal, acting like you’re expendable. I know we fight sometimes, but we’re a team, aren’t we? And we can’t—” He swallowed thickly. “We can’t be a team if you’re dead.”

Shiro’s words flashed back to Keith, that Lance had dragged Keith’s body down the tunnel to save him. He hadn’t considered leaving him for one second. And he must’ve been so scared, and guilty because he was thinking that Keith thought it was okay that he was dying. Then he’d kept vigil at his cryo pod waiting until he could tell him that it wouldn’t be okay at all if he died there in Lance’s arms—

“Stop, stop, that’s not what I meant when I said that,” Keith said, guilt eating up his stomach.

Lance blinked, eyes shining. “No? Okay…” He cleared his throat, and it sounded so loud in the quiet of the cock pit. “What did you mean, then?”

And Keith couldn’t think of anything to say other than the truth. As always. He needed to get better at lying.

He licked his dry lips. “Do you remember what you said after—after I told you about that whole jealousy thing?”

Lance’s brow furrowed, then cleared, then his face curiously drained of colour. He fell back on his haunches. “Didn’t I make some crack about you liking me?”

“You said ‘Would that be so bad?’” Keith said, barely above a whisper, because this was stupid, this was so, so stupid. He’d almost died, and his heart was beating out a more terrified rhythm now than in the tunnel.

But whatever Lance’s reaction, it had to be better than him crying, right?

Lance’s mouth dropped open the tiniest bit. “That’s what—you were bleeding out and _that’s_ what you were thinking—” He rose to his feet in one lithe motion, running his hands through his hair. He was uncharacteristically at a loss for words at the worst possible moment. “So are you saying you’d want—so you—you _like_ —” He took a deep breath. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

“No,” Keith said.

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t like me,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Except I do.”

“Except you don’t.”

“Except I _do,_ ” Lance insisted.

Keith crossed his arms. “You never told me that.”

“Because I didn’t know you liked me!”

Keith dropped the back of his head against his chair. “Oh my god.”

“And the look on your face when I joked about it in Blue made it super clear that you found the concept horrifying.”

“I did. I do!” Keith agreed. His mind was like five steps behind his mouth in this conversation, in which he and Lance were actively discussing they liked each other. It hadn’t quite registered, but his heart was steadily climbing into his throat.

“Why?” Lance asked. “How is us mutually liking each other horrifying?”

He spread his hands. “Because it’s _us_. How would that end in anything but disaster?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you—we fight all the time,” he said incredulously. How were most basic concepts of reality blowing right past Lance? “Wouldn’t that only get worse, for us and the team, if we were… together?”

“No,” Lance said reflexively.

“How?” Keith asked.

“We’d work it out.”

“ _How_?” Keith repeated. “Every time I think we’ve worked anything out, you freak out again—”

“Well hopefully if we were dating you’d have my back once in a while—”

“You think I don’t have your back?”

“—and if you can act less like you’re so much better than me—”

“I don’t think that!” Keith stood up. “And how do I not have your back? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m constantly trying to figure out what your deal is so this team can work. And I just bugged Shiro about always taking your plans for granted, so—”

“You did what?”

Shit, he hadn’t meant to tell him that. He hadn’t expected to say most of this.

He crossed his arms. “You were pissed I took credit for your stupid plan—even though I _didn’t_ —so I told him you’re the Plan Man.”

Lance’s face did this thing—it kind of crumpled with happiness. Keith flushed and dropped his gaze.

“And you’re Knife Boy?” Lance said, a little breathlessly.

“I didn’t tell him that part,” Keith muttered.

This conversation was getting out of hand. And going way too far. This wasn’t a confession, this was an ending, before there was even a beginning.

So no, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if Lance liked him. And maybe Lance did. And maybe Keith still didn’t believe that.

None of that changed who they were.

“It doesn’t matter,” Keith dismissed. “It’s not gonna work—”

“I’ve been jealous of you since the Garrison,” Lance announced suddenly. Keith blinked at him. “In any definition of the word.”

Heat crept up the back of Keith’s neck. “What?”

“I wanted you to notice me so bad,” Lance said. “And then you didn’t even remember me—”

“I did. Kind of.”

“ _Kind of_ ,” he repeated with a huff. “That wasn’t what I was going for. I wanted to impress you. So I was annoyed, and hurt, I guess, when you didn’t remember me, so I kept up the rivalry, because then at least I had your attention. I could challenge you to a race, to sparring, or whatever, and maybe one day you’d think I was as good as you. And until then, at least we were spending time together.”

Keith gaped.

They were finally getting somewhere—Keith was understanding the words coming out of Lance’s mouth, and the stupid shit he did finally made sense. He was caught up on the conversation.

It felt like they were finally on the same page.

But that didn’t mean anything, right?

But Keith desperately wanted it to.

“That’s so juvenile,” Keith said—because maybe he was a dick after all. He rushed on to counter Lance’s offended reaction, “But I liked it. I mean, I like being with you. I like… you,” he finished awkwardly.

That was a good way to finish, right? That felt right. Terrifying, but right. Honest.

Lance kept his eyes locked on Keith’s as he slowly closed the distance between them. “And you think we’d be a disaster?”

He nodded, voice rough. “Probably.”

He stopped in front of Keith, warmth radiating off him. “You wanna test that theory?”

Keith’s breath came out slowly.

He nodded.

Lance cupped his face.

And then Lance’s lips were on his, plush and yielding, fervent and warm. It sent Keith’s heart soaring.

He wrapped his hands around Lance’s bony wrists and pressed forward, greedy for more of his affection before they both came to their senses. Because that’s always how it went. They got along for two seconds and then they messed it up again.

But if they didn’t stop kissing they couldn’t mess it up.

Their tentative kiss grew heated; open-mouthed and desperate. Pent-up emotions spilled through their embrace; relief at being alive long enough to do this, leftover frustration over all the time they’d spent fighting instead of giving into the endless fondness and _want_ coursing between them.

Lance ran one palm down Keith’s spine to the small of his back, pulling him in until their chests were flush, hearts pounding in tandem.

Keith held back a groan, so he released a breathy sigh instead.

Lance buried his fingers in Keith’s hair. He peppered his mouth with little kisses, murmuring, “I don’t think this would be so bad.”

He laid his forehead against his. “Yeah?”

He hummed. “I think it could actually be pretty good.”

Keith stole another kiss. Yeah, still good. “I think you might be right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So last chap is gonna be set a few months after this, with flashbacks about them getting used to their relationship. It might be up this weekend/early next week. It'll depend on when I have wifi to post.  
> Lemme know your thoughts!!


	4. Part Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here were are at the end. Thank you for all your feedback, it means so much to me.  
> This chapter switches between a present story line when they've been dating for months, and snatches of their relationship as it got to that point. And uh... Pacing? Consistent tone? I don't know her.  
> Hope you enjoy!

And it wasn’t so bad. 

It wasn’t just good, either.

It was… kind of amazing.

Terrifying too, but Keith hadn’t expected anything else from his first relationship. At least this one was with Lance, who he trusted with his life—and his emotional baggage, which was probably a bigger deal, all things considered. 

They saved each other every day. Emotional vulnerability was an entirely different beast, and one that Keith had trouble sharing from the start.

After their first kiss (make out session) on Red, they’d had a brief conversation about how to tell the team about their relationship. Keith suggested they tell each person one at a time, so the whole  team couldn’t make a huge deal about it at once.

But they found everybody in the lounge immediately, and Lance threw that plan out the window.

“So… we’re dating now!” Lance announced, with what Keith could only assume was no forethought. Lance lifted their entwined hands as proof. “Do we need to sign off with HR, or what?”

Keith rolled his eyes  _ hard _ before glaring at him.

Lance shrugged, all smiles. “What?”

Allura and Coran offered congratulations, muttering to each other asking what HR was.

Shiro lifted his brows very high at Keith, looking a bit too smug. 

Keith shook his head minutely, wide eyed and slightly frantic.  _ Do not, do not, do not—  _

Pidge popped up from the other side of the couch before Shiro could open his mouth. “Oh, are you serious?”

“I know, I never saw this coming,” Shiro said, staggering back dramatically. “What a shock. I am simply blown away by this unprecedented development—”

“Shiro,” Keith warned. “I swear to god—”

Lance tugged on his hand, brows raised. “What, do you talk about me, babe?”

Pidge barked a laugh. “Only all the time—”

Keith’s face lit red. “I do not!”

This was why he wanted to tell them separately; they all fed off each other, layering into the most embarrassing call outs until he got overly defensive. Because yeah, Keith liked Lance, and they knew, and now Lance knew too, but admitting it wholesale with no rivalry to hide behind was  _ different _ . And Lance knowing how much time Keith had spent thinking about him still embarrassed him. They’d literally just admitted it to each other.

“Oh, don’t be like that, pumpkin,” Lance cooed, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

He crossed his arms, elbowing Lance a little in the ribs, but Keith didn’t pull away. 

Hunk spoke up. “Well, I for one am very happy for you two.” 

Lance relaxed into Keith’s side. “Aw, thank you, buddy—”

“And I’m even happier for myself,” Hunk continued as if Lance hadn’t spoken, “who will no longer be subjected to monologues about Keith’s mullet—”

Lance’s eyes bulged. “Hunk, that is private, privileged information!”

“What kind of monologues?” Keith asked, instantly suspicious.

Hunk mimed zipping his lips. “I’m sorry, but that’s private, privileged information.”

Keith glared at Lance expectantly.

He ducked his head before mumbling, “All good things.”

Warmth unfurled in Keith’s chest.

Lance caught the look on his face and and smiled softly in response.

Yeah, it wasn’t bad at all.

\--

Their conversations found a familiar rhythm, snarky and teasing but endlessly fond. They were getting to know each other better all the time, testing limits and learning exactly where to stop. It got less scary with every conversation and smile. 

And after months of dating, it was tentatively easy.

They’d just freed Harta, a planet rooted in tradition and formalities, so the team’s presence was requested at the victory celebration, which involved all the usual; food, music, dancing, as well as a variety of games and challenges to prove the planet’s unity. That was cool, that wasn’t a problem.

What Keith wasn’t psyched about was the traditional outfits they were required to wear.

Keith sat on Lance’s bed and fingered the airy, velvety-soft vest he’d been given with distaste. 

“You know, I’m jealous of you,” Lance mused. Keith and him were in Lance’s room getting ready. Well, Lance was at least.

Keith looked up from grimacing at the outfit puddled in his lap. “Huh?” 

Lance was checking himself out in the mirror. He’d just put on his cloud blue ensemble; tight silk pants, a light cloak that poofed around his legs in a gravity-defying fashion, and a white shirt with a plunging neck line.

He looked good, but that had nothing to do with the outfit. He always looked good.

“I’ll never know how amazing it is to date me,” Lance said, a smile curling at his lips as he met Keith’s eye in the mirror. “ _ Tragic _ .”

Keith tossed his vest at him.

Lance snatched it out out of the air. “Hey!”

“If you want a compliment, you can just ask for a compliment.”

He sniffed delicately. “I don’t want a compliment.”

“Great.” Keith leaned back on the bed. “Then that V-neck’s too low.”

Incredibly, that only made Lance grin wider. “What, you don’t want everybody gobbling up the eye candy that is your man?”

_ Your man _ . The reminder still sent a thrill up Keith’s spine. That Lance was his, and wanted to be. Every once in a while, he thought about what it would be like if they’d agreed to just stay friends after confessing in Red, without even trying to make a relationship work. A rush of… relief, and pride always filled him, that they took that risk.

It had paid off.

Keith nodded, biting down on a laugh. “Hey, if you wanna show off those hickeys, go right ahead.”

“What?” Lance slapped his hands over his chest, peering down his shirt in shock. “Shit! Where’s my concealer?”

“On the counter with the rest of the random crap you don’t need,” Keith said as Lance hustled into the bathroom.

There was a knock on the door and Pidge announced from the hall, “Five minutes, lovebirds. This planet cares too much about politeness for their guests of honour to show up late.”

“Get dressed, Keith!” Lance called, thrusting his chest at the mirror to inspect the hickeys Keith’s mouth had left.

Keith bit down on a satisfied smirk as he picked up the vest he’d thrown at Lance off the floor.

\--

Their new relationship didn’t just come with emotional intimacy. It came with physical intimacy, which seemed a hell of a lot less stressful to Keith. He couldn’t be that bad at that, right?

They were lying next to each other in bed, the first time they’d gotten horizontal. While their activities were still pretty PG, Keith was getting all hot and bothered. Lance seemed to know exactly what to do to make Keith feel good. It made him wonder how much experience Lance had, and exactly how out of his depth Keith was. 

“Have you dated a lot before?” Keith asked, pressing kisses to the underside of his jaw. Lance had done that when they’d been making out in the hall last week, and it made his knees weak.

“A few people,” Lance said, tilting his neck further into the pillow. “Why?”

Maybe it was just dumb luck he was this good then.

“No reason.”

They resumed kissing, mouths occupied by something more worthwhile than talking, before Lance added, “Like, it was nothing serious. I haven’t had sex with anybody.”

Keith’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

That hadn’t occurred to him yet, but it was good to know. They were on equal footing there, at least.

Lance pulled back. “Oh, is that not what you were thinking about?”

“No, I was…” Keith blinked. “Just—you’re really good at kissing.”

Lance relaxed, and then a smirk crept over his features. He pecked Keith on the corner of the mouth. “You’re not too bad yourself, stud.”

Keith groaned, blushing. But he couldn’t help blurting, “Really?”

“Trust me, if the great Keith Kogane was finally bad at something, you’d have heard about it.”

Which was nice to hear.

Keith tossed a leg over Lance’s hip to straddle him. He pushed back the bangs that had flopped into his eyes and grinned at Lance’s dropped jaw. “Sorry to disappoint.”

He ran his hands up his sides. “My dude, you are anything but disappointing.”

Keith smiled and dropped his lips down to his. 

\--

It turned out Keith wasn’t that jealous of a person. Lance could dance and flirt and smile at whatever alien he liked, and Keith didn’t need to glare the whole time. Because Lance always wound up back with Keith, looking at him like he was the only person in the room, smiling just for him.

So at Harta’s freedom celebration, Lance flitted around the huge room making friends and chatting it up. Pidge and Hunk had gotten absorbed into a group of techies trying to figure out the mechanics of various games, and Shiro, Allura and Coran were diplomat-ing around—basically the same thing Lance was doing, but with less jokes and finger guns.

Luckily, Keith had plenty to do on his own. The celebrating was kind of like a mix between a fair, a casino, and a banquet. In between sampling the food an trying his luck throwing knives at holograms of Zarkon’s face, Keith stood around watching others play. 

Some people took that as on opportunity to strike up a conversation.

Keith was two minutes into a stilted conversation with some blue dude with four arms. He’d introduced himself as Thoraz, and he was wearing a long, sleeveless vest like Keith’s, except Thoraz’s chest was bare. Thank god someone decided to include a shirt with Keith’s outfit. “Your skills in battle are impressive, red paladin.”

“Thanks,” Keith said. Then, because he was supposed to be polite and make conversation, he added, “Do you battle? Or train, or whatever?”

With the amount of muscles this guy had, Keith had to assume he did, but it seemed like a relevant follow up question.

“I do, yes,” he said in a deep, rich voice. “All Hartans are trained in the art of battle during adolescence. Is it different on your home planet?”

“Yup.” Then Keith took a big chug of his cocktail.

“I’ve always been interested in alien cultures,” Thoraz continued. “You’re from Earth, right? Do you miss it?”

“Yeah. And not really.”

“Oh?” He lifted a thick brow. “Why not, if I may ask? I was under the impression Zarkon hadn’t reached it yet. Did something else happen?”

Keith shrugged uncomfortably. Earth was fine. It was his home, technically. But he didn’t miss anything but the desert sunsets and the food, and there was plenty of that to go around. 

Whenever he tried to imagine returning to Earth after defeating Zarkon, all he saw was static. How could he possibly settle back into life on Earth after this experience? And not just space, and the lions, and fighting for the universe’s freedom, but living with the team. Would they split up when they finished out here? They’d have to, right? They couldn’t just all live in a big house together. That’s not how life worked.

So he didn’t like thinking about it.

“No,” Keith replied to Thoraz’s question. “It’s just that my family’s out here.”

A smile touched Thoraz’s lips. “Ah, it is a blessing to find a family within a team.”

Keith’s eyes strayed to Lance, who winked at him on his way over. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

Lance slipped an arm around Keith’s back and introduced himself to Thoraz, picking up the brunt of the conversation on Keith’s behalf. 

He relaxed into Lance’s side, zoning out once he wasn’t expected to participate. 

Maybe him and Lance could move in together. Couples did that, sharing an apartment was normal. Maybe he’d bring it up. Maybe he wouldn’t. Lance talking about Earth ran a real fine line between reminiscent and homesick. 

But Lance would talk to him about it now. Once they were dating, the pretense that they didn’t like each other was gone, so they didn’t have to act like being around each other was a chore.

They didn’t  _ have _ to, but it had taken Keith a bit to figure out how not to do it anyway.

\--

They still fought. Obviously. Because it was them, because they were argumentative people, because they were in the fairly stressful situation of trying to save the universe all the time. Their little tiffs usually rose and crested without much incident.

Their main problem was, as always, communication. The vulnerability it took to admit what they were upset about instead of lashing out and stomping off like usual, took an almost Herculean amount of effort. 

Their first big fight was a practice in that. 

It started with Lance complaining about Keith acting disinterested with Lance in public, and escalated by Keith apologizing for not wanting to make out in front of their teammates or strangers, and ended with Lance yelling about Keith having his emotions shoved so far up his ass he didn’t know what they were, and Keith accusing him of being laughably insecure.

And rounded out with Keith alone, crying bitterly on his bed and reliving the whole dumb fight.

Lance just always wanted to win… and okay, Keith wanted to come out on top for once, not fumbling through the five layers of whatever the fuck Lance was trying to say. 

But Keith knew what Lance was saying this time, didn’t he? He just didn’t like it.

Lance wanted Keith to be more affectionate, because it made him feel like Keith didn’t like him when he rolled his eyes and scoffed when Lance fawned over him in public.

And Keith called him insecure for it. Which—Lance  _ was _ insecure. That was the point of the conversation. Why did Keith have to throw that in his face? 

Keith scrubbed his wet cheeks with the heel of his hand with a groan. 

They couldn't—they were  _ bad _ at this. Lance said this would work. What a stupid optimist. 

Keith rolled out of bed, heart heavy in his throat. 

He slumped down the hallway to Lance’s door. It was the middle of the night, so he knocked lightly at first, slowly getting louder and more irritated as Lance didn’t answer.

“Real mature,” Keith muttered. Should he give Lance his space, and let him rest for the night?

No.

Keith popped in Lance’s key code, trying to remind himself that this was going to be an apology, not another fight.

But Lance’s bed was empty. Sheets wrinkled, pillow indented, no Lance.

He was upset enough to go to Blue? Fuck.

Keith tried to use his time on the walk to the hangar planning out what he was going to say, but he never got farther than “Sorry.” He needed to know Lance was going to say. He needed to know if Lance was going to put up a bigger fight.

But then Lance wasn’t with Blue, either.

“ _ Lance _ ,” Keith groaned. “Can’t even make an apology easy.”

He turned around, thinking about going to the training room, because maybe Lance had gone there? And if not, Keith would just train to tire himself out.

But then he passed an observation room, and found Lance curled up in front of a wide window.

“There you are.” Keith stomped into the room.

Lance startled and looked up at him, big blue eyes shining. “Oh. Hey.”

Keith threw himself down next to him. “Sorry,” he grunted. 

Because, as always, that’s all he’d come up with.

Lance wiped his sleeve against his face. “Thanks,” he said dully.

Should Keith be crying? Should be tell Lance he had been? He’d accused him of being an emotionless robot—would saying he’d been crying help? 

Probably not. Keith felt like shit knowing he’d made Lance cry.

Keith swallowed past a lump in his throat. “I don’t wanna fight.”

“I didn’t mean to start one,” Lance mumbled.

“Then sorry,” Keith said again.

A few minutes passed as they watched stars shine like diamonds outside. 

He’d let Lance lead the conversation. Keith didn’t want to make any more mistakes tonight.

“So what if I’m insecure?” Lance eventually said.

“Huh?”

“You’re my boyfriend. If I’m insecure, you’re supposed to help with that, not make me feel worse about it.”

Keith nodded, eyes growing hot again. He wasn’t good at this. He’d never said he would be.

“I know,” Keith muttered, looking at his knees. “You… you don’t have to be insecure. I mean—I’m not embarrassed of you, Lance. Or trying to hide our relationship or whatever.”

“Then what?” Lance turned to face him fully. “I’m not asking you to make out in public, but you always act so over it—so over  _ me _ —whenever I try to do anything cute in front of anyone. Like you’re just putting up with me. That’s straight people bullshit. We’re better than that.”

A tear fell as Keith chuckled, because he liked Lance so much it made his heart hurt. “I know.”

Lance touched Keith’s cheek.

Keith ducked his head. “Maybe it’s those rivalry instincts,” he went on before Lance could say anything. “Like if everyone thinks you like me more, then I’m winning. Because I haven’t fallen as hard. But I have.” He looked at him from under his bangs. “You know I have.”

Lance melted a little. “Yeah. Sorry I called you an emotionless robot.”

He shrugged. “You weren’t wrong. I don’t know what emotions I have half the time.”

He cupped the back of Keith’s head, twining his fingers through his hair. “But you know how you feel about me?”

“Mm hm.” Keith nudged his forehead against Lance’s, lips a hair’s breath away. They held that position for a bit, stretching the moment sweeter like taffy, until Keith’s chest overflowed with yearning and fondness. “Everything.”

And then their lips connected, slow and tender.

\--

They played a few games together at Harta’s freedom celebration, and then Lance took off again to do another lap around the room.

He’d make his way back over to Keith whenever a new alien would strike up a conversation with the worst paladin to try that with.

“My hero,” Keith said, splaying a hand across Lance’s chest after he chased off the latest chatty party goer.

Lance pressed a kiss to his temple. “You getting antsy?”

“It’s fine.” Lance gave him a look. Keith elaborated, “I’m having fun when I’m not worrying about accidentally offending strangers.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Tell you what—I’ll refresh our drinks, and then we’ll hit the dance floor together. Don’t argue, because you still owe me a dance.”

“Since when?”

“Since Juliaxa.”

“Who?”

“The planet that made you burp a lot.”

He rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t the  _ planet _ that made me burp a lot—”

“Uh huh,” Lance said as he drew back into the crowd. “Whatever man, you just better have your dancing shoes on!”

Keith watched him go, smiling absently. 

He’d almost forgot about Juliaxa. How jealous he got watching Lance dance with other people. And had he done anything with how much he’d wanted to be with Lance? No. Just glared from across the dance floor. It had made sense at the time, but god, was Keith glad he’d learned to communicate—even a  _ little _ bit—with Lance.

Thoraz wandered back over after Lance left. “I wanted to pardon myself for earlier. I wasn’t aware you and the blue paladin were involved.”

Keith blinked up at him, five steps behind understanding this interaction just one sentence in. “Okay?”

To Keith’s obvious confusion, he explained, “I’m not familiar with your Earth customs, but if speaking alone with one’s mate causes such possessiveness in humans, I do apologize.”

Lance? Possessive? Huh? That didn’t clear anything up.

“What um—what are you talking about?” Keith asked. He looked around, hoping Lance was on his way back already, but he was in the punch line, caught up in retelling their latest heroic venture if his wild gesturing was any indication.

“I couldn’t help but notice how the blue paladin returns to you whenever you’re approached,” Thoraz said. “I apologize if he became jealous of our encounter.”

_ Jealous  _ rattled around in Keith’s head for an extra second. Could people just stop using that word?

“He’s not jealous,” Keith said flatly. “He knows I don’t like talking to people, so he gets me out of it.” 

His brows rose. “Oh, then my humblest apologies—”

He went on, but Keith wasn’t listening. He didn’t really like the implication that there was anything for Lance to be jealous  _ of _ . Because who the fuck was this guy? Had he been hitting on Keith? Why was he still talking?

“Yeah, well, I’m not interested,” Keith cut him off. “So, like… you’re welcome for saving your planet or whatever, but—” He went to lift his glass like a cheers, but Lance had taken it to refill it. So Keith just finished with a half-assed wave and a “Bye” before he wandered off.

Like that dude knew  _ anything _ , anything at all, about his and Lance’s relationship.

\--

Fights happened for lots of reasons. Sometimes they were bad at communicating. Sometimes stress just happened. Missions didn’t always go according to plan.

Or according to Lance’s plan, specifically. Shiro had started taking his suggestions, much to Lance’s delight. This one went a little off the rails, which was fine, that happened. Keith fixed it.

In a risky, everyone screaming “Keith, no!” sort of way. 

But it worked. And he survived. So everything was fine.

According to Keith.

As soon as they landed in the hangar, Lance was sprinting over to Keith coming out of Red. “What the fuck was that?”

Keith raised his brows. He was kind of expecting a hug, not this fiery-eyed, finger-pointing version of Lance ready for a fight.

Keith shrugged. “I was thinking on my feet?”

“You weren’t thinking at all!” Lance panted. His helmet was still rolling at Blue’s feet where he’d tossed it off. His hair clung to his sweaty brow. The rest of the team was hanging back, watching the two anxiously.  “You almost got yourself killed.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Keith retorted. “We all could’ve died if I hadn’t—” 

“You don’t get to make those calls by yourself!” Lance’s shout echoed through the hangar. “You don’t get to unilaterally decide how to fix a problem.”

Keith’s hackles rose. The way Lance was going on was like before they were dating, when Lance picked a fight with him for no goddamn reason.

“At least I did  _ something _ ,” Keith snapped.

“We’re a team,” Lance said incredulously. “It’s not all up to you!” He whipped around to look at the others. “Shiro, am I right, or am I right?”

“You’re right,” Shiro said after a moment’s deliberation. “Keith, you—”

Lance spun back to Keith, poking his chest. “See? There! I’m right and you’re an idiot. Take your armour off.”

Keith smacked him off. “No. Why?”

Lance came right back, going straight for the clasps on Keith’s side. “So I can assess any internal injuries.”

“I’m fine!”

Shiro muttered about giving them a minute before herding the rest of the team out of the hangar, leaving Keith and Lance alone.

“Lance, I’m fine,” Keith gritted out, still pissed at being wrung out in front of everyone. “Leave me alone.”

“Leave you alone?” Lance repeated, voice oddly strangled. He tugged off Keith’s chest piece and immediately shoved Keith’s shirt up to his neck, leaving his chest bare. 

Keith wasn’t lying; he didn’t have a scratch on him. All the fighting was done in the lions, and Red had barely been hit.

Lance’s fingers brushed the shiny scar on Keith’s ribs he’d gotten from the tunnels right before they started dating.

“That’s what you said last time,” Lance said, much more subdued than a moment ago. “You said you were fine then, too, and if it had taken us a minute longer to get you in a cryo pod…”

And Keith’s irritation immediately melted, replaced by a gut-wrenching guilt. He couldn’t keep doing this to him.

“I’m sorry,” Keith said.

Lance acted like he hadn’t heard, pressing his fingers all over Keith’s chest asking if anything hurt.

“No,” Keith said softly. “Lance—”

“Take off your pants,” Lance said, too focused on his task to make a joke about what he’d said.

Keith cupped Lance’s face, drawing his eye to his. “Lance, look at me.” His big blue eyes were still frantic, a little furrow wrinkling his brow. “I’m fine, okay? I’m sorry for freaking you out. Just take a breath with me, okay?”

Lance nodded, pulling in a deep, shuddering breath that choked him on the way out. Tears welled, shining like crystals before streaming down his cheeks. He buried his face in Keith’s shoulder, slipping his arms around his ribs, nearly squeezing the breath out of him.

And Keith’s stomach sunk down, down, down into the ground because he was a terrible person for doing this to Lance. Again. He just—he didn’t consider consequences when he threw himself into bad situations. All he thought about was the quickest way to avoid the most casualties. His own life was rarely taken into account. 

But if Lance did half the shit Keith did on a regular basis… He didn’t want to imagine it.

“I’m so sorry,” Keith repeated.

“You gotta stop doing this,” Lance mumbled into his neck. “I know you think you’re expendable, but you’re not. The team needs you, okay? I need you.”

Keith nodded into Lance’s hair, breathing in his sweat. “I know, I’m sorry. I need you, too. To keep me in line.”

Lance let out a watery chuckle. He lifted his head, smacking a wet kiss to his mouth. “I hate you so much.”

He squeezed him tighter. “I know.”

\--

Keith hid out in the corner until Lance found him again, preceded by an unimpressed Shiro. 

This wasn’t going to be good news, was it?

“Were you rude to the prince, Keith?” Shiro asked with a sigh.

“No.”

Shiro crossed his arms expectantly.

“Okay,” Keith began, “who’s the prince?” 

“Thoraz,” Lance said. “The guy who looks like a blue Kazaam.”

Keith laughed. Shiro did not.

Keith composed himself before considering Shir’s original question. “Oh. Then maybe a little.”

Lance snorted.

“The council of elders has asked you to leave,” Shiro said, not half as amused as Lance. Not mad, but  _ not _ pleased.

Keith shrugged. That worked for him. “Okay.”

“Or you could apologize…” Lance added leadingly.

“Or I could leave,” Keith retorted, making it clear which choice he preferred.

“What even happened, Keith?” Shiro asked. “You’ve been doing so well at these functions lately.”

Keith’s gaze jumped to Lance. There was a reason for that. 

He could just blame this all on Lance for leaving him, really.

“Well?” Lance asked. “What’d he do?”

He wouldn’t, though. 

Keith shrugged again.“I guess he was hitting on me, and he apologized for making Lance jealous, and I told him Lance just gets me out of talking to people,” he said. “And then I guess I interrupted him when he was apologizing again, and this place really cares about politeness, right?”

“I mean, yeah,” Shiro said pointedly. “That’s kind of their whole thing.”

Keith lifted a finger. “To be fair, I didn’t know he was the prince.”

Shiro gave him a flat look. “You could just be polite to everybody.”

“Shiro, how long have you known me?”

He looked to the ceiling, like he was praying for strength. “Fine. I’ll deal with this. You wanna go back to the ship, right?”

Keith nodded.

“Then just go,” Shiro said. “The rest of us will be back later.”

“Okay! Sorry. Bye, Lance.” And Keith headed out.

He was at the front steps of the building when he heard footsteps behind him.

“I can’t take you anywhere, huh?” Lance jogged to catch up with him.

Keith shrugged. “Sorry. You don’t have to leave, too. I know you love these things.”

“I love y—spending time with  _ you _ ,” Lance corrected, a small blush lighting his cheeks.

Keith’s brows rose, heart speeding to a gallop in his chest. “Is that right?”

Lance nodded, slipping his hand into Keith’s and going on like he hadn’t almost made a very specific declaration. “And you still owe me a dance.”

“I don’t know what they’ll do if I go back in—”

“We don’t have to,” Lance assured him. “I’ve got a backup plan.” 

He led him to a grassy purple hill overlooking the city, but Lance faced them toward the sprawling fields surrounding it, and the sun ending its day on the horizon. Red and orange rays bled into the indigo sky like water paint. A cherry-looking tree stood beside them, and a soft breeze sent its silver blossoms sweeping through the air, and tussled Lance’s bangs.

Lance pulled his communicator out of his pocket and queued up some music. “Ta-da. We still get to dance.”

“It’s too easy to be romantic in space,” Keith teased. 

He lifted a brow. “Did you want me to class up a sewer? A grotto? I can do that, too. Just get me some rose petals and candles—”

Keith took his hand, and laid the other on Lance’s shoulder. “No need to show off. This is fine.”

“Just fine?” he fished, taking hold of Keith’s hip as they swayed to the music.

“I mean, it’s beautiful, but you didn’t  _ do _ anything. You’re just playing music on a scenic alien planet,” Keith said. “I don’t think you get credit for nature.”

“I picked the perfect spot,” he retorted incredulously. “We get the best view of this sunset, the grass is shorter up here than in the field so we won’t trip, this tree is blossoming with flowers raining down upon us. This is a cinematic masterpiece!”

Keith tossed his head back and laughed. It was the littlest things that made his heart swell with emotion for this boy, so full he could burst.

But not just any emotion. He knew which one.

He wasn’t even scared of it.

Keith brushed a thumb over Lance’s cheekbone, highlighted by the sun’s golden rays. “I love you.”

The last performative irritation melted from Lance’s face, and then his brows rose while his jaw dropped. “I—yeah, I love you, too. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

A hot blush rose to his cheeks. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

“You said it first,” Lance said, still looking at Keith in awe. “I thought I was gonna have to teach you the difference between love and, like, constipation first.”

Keith smacked him in the chest. “Fuck off,” he laughed. “You’re the worst.”

Lance dropped a kiss on his nose. “But you love me.”

“I do,” Keith admitted. “So much.”

“So much!” Lance repeated, the biggest fucking smile stretched across his mouth. “So much, even. I love you so much.”

Keith pulled him in for a deep kiss, because Lance would just keep saying it, and Keith could only hear that Lance loved him so many times before his heart actually exploded from  _ how much _ that meant to him.

And then they danced together, happy and secure, loved and loving, until the moon hung in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! Please let me know what you thought!  
> Here's link to a [post on tumblr](http://katranga.tumblr.com/post/174349476883/it-might-not-be-so-bad), if that's your thing.


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